


In the Bleak Midwinter

by consultingcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Demon Dean, Dom/sub Undertones, Episode: s10e02 Reichenbach, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingcas/pseuds/consultingcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel meets Dean for the first time after he'd become a demon. He had decided that if he ever saw Dean again, he'd try to convince him to come back to the bunker to be cured. He hadn't quite planned on kissing him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Bleak Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyoneill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/gifts).



> The prompt for this was: Dean's still a demon, Cas is still losing his grace, when they meet up again things between them are very strained. In this prompt, prefer bottom Cas. I had so much fun writing this so thanks, ladyoneill for an amazing prompt. I've set this at some vague point in "Reichenbach" with the premise that Dean goes to see Castiel before going off to kill Lester.

The church nativity was a fairly make-shift affair. Due to lack of numbers, only two wise men visited the baby Jesus, tea towels doubled as headdresses for the shepherds and the Tinsel was falling off the angel Gabriel’s halo. All the same, Castiel was transfixed by the spectacle. It might be an imperfect representation of the events he had played a part in so many millennia ago, but it was familiar, almost reassuringly so. He’d take whatever comfort he could get these days, since Metatron had methodically destroyed all that was dear to him. Castiel was concentrating so intently on the show that he didn’t notice someone slip into the pew beside him. Only when he heard a familiar voice and a soft chuckle of laughter did he notice his companion.

“You can’t seriously be enjoying this piece of shit?”

Dean. Or rather, not-Dean, as Castiel had to remind himself. The corrupted, blackened soul sat next to him was a far cry from the Righteous Man he’d once raised from Hell.

“Although highly fictionalised, it does have a certain charm about it.”

“Huh. Then again, you liked the Supernatural books. I should’ve known you’d have crappy taste in popular culture.”

Castiel turned and properly examined the other man. For the first time since his grace had started to burn out, he was glad of it. It meant that he couldn’t perceive the rot that had corrupted Dean’s soul. Even so, he could tell that this wasn’t the same man he’d raised from Hell. This Dean was colder, more brutal. He couldn’t trust Dean’s motives for being here, in some back-of-beyond church hall to see him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “Rumour has it that things are bad with your Grace burning out. I wanted to see how awful it was for myself.”

“I’m fine.” _Not like you care about the fact I’m dying anymore._

“You’re lying. I can see your grace now, remember? You look like shit.”

“At least it’s a lot better than your soul looks at present.”

Castiel hadn’t meant to be quite so cutting, but Dean laughed anyway.

“Funny. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I want to talk to you.”

 

A little hesitantly, Castiel followed him out of the church and they headed down the deserted main street together. Sitting down on a bench, they sat in silence for a while.

Eventually, Castiel ventured, “Why are you really here, Dean? It’s not just about my Grace, is it?”

Dean shook his head, but didn’t answer.

“We would like…You could come home, if you wanted?” Castiel said hesitantly.

“No thanks. For a change, I’m actually happy. Driving across the States, no strings attached, no kid brothers to worry about starting the Apocalypse or fallen angels screwing up Heaven and expecting me to help fix it.” Castiel winced. “Besides, if I came back, you’d be trying to cure me, wouldn’t you? No way that’s gonna happen.”

“Sam and I have been doing a lot of research, yes. We think a cure is possible.”

“Which basically means you haven’t found anything yet. Awesome.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t want you back home.”

Dean laughed mirthlessly. “Sure. You want to go around hunting monsters with a monster? Hell of a plan, Cas. Who says I’m not gonna kill you and Sam first chance I get?”

“I do. You haven’t tried to kill me yet. I think you’ve got more control than you’re implying.”

“Don’t be too sure about that.”

Castiel sighed, but didn’t push the subject. He couldn’t afford to delude himself. As much as he wanted this to be real, for Dean to be relatively unaffected by the damage done to his soul, it couldn’t be true. He’d seen the knights of Hell, fought against them. He knew all too well what they were capable of.

“I can help you with the fading grace thing, you know.” Dean was a little conciliatory. “Being a knight has its perks.”

“No. You and I both know what that will involve. I’m not watching any more of my family die just so I can survive.”

“Who says a fallen angel needs any grace? Besides, you could have so much more than whatever crappy powers you stole from some other angel. That’s what I’m offering you here, Cas.” Castiel said nothing. “What? You pissed at me or something? It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve gone darkside and made a deal with a demon. Beats dying, at any rate.”

Castiel remembered only too well. “You’ve obviously missed the whole point of why I made my deal with Crowley. I wasn’t driven by selfish intentions. Not at the start at least.”

"Oh yeah, of course. You did it to save the world. I get that. ‘Cause you’re so in love with humanity and all.”

_Because I was in love with you and wanted to save you from pain._

Castiel paused. “I know you think that this is easier, Dean. I’ve been human before. I know how…inconvenient emotions can be. But this isn’t really you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I raised you from Hell. I saw your soul when it was bruised and battered from Alistair’s tortures. I would think I would know if you were truly a mindless killer.”

The silence between them took on a more menacing tone as Dean clenched his fists in annoyance. Eventually, he muttered, “Figures you’d be like this.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I’m no longer your Righteous Man. You don’t have a single reason to give a damn about me, now I’m just some black-eyed freak to you. Even if I said I wanted your help, you probably wouldn’t…”

 

In retrospect, Castiel couldn’t have said what possessed him to do it. Maybe it was the look of hurt in Dean’s eyes. Maybe it was the knowledge that with his impending death, he didn’t have long left to express his true feelings. Whatever it was, Castiel impulsively leaned forward and kissed Dean.

 

It wasn’t how he’d imagined it, in the few times he'd ever dared to dream of kissing Dean Winchester. He could taste the sulphur on Dean’s breath. The way he was nibbling on Castiel’s lips was more vicious than tender.

“I’m not him.” Dean murmured against his lips. “I’m not gonna be your one true love or anything. All you’ll get from me is a quick fuck and if you’re lucky, a kiss goodbye in the morning. Is that really what you want, Cas?”

“I want you.”

 

Dean transported them back to Castiel’s hotel room in a cloud of black smoke. The difference in Dean was still apparent there too, in the way he tore Castiel’s clothes from his body or his biting hard into the angel’s neck. But Castiel wasn’t going to think on that, let alone remark on it. The time for words had passed now. Between them, words were all too quickly turned into accusations or apologies for past wrongs. Maybe, in some way, they were better like this. Pure, somehow. At least this way, they were together. Cursed or not.

 

“I’m gonna tear you apart, angel.” Dean murmured, forcefully pushing Castiel down onto the bed. “I’m gonna find exactly what it takes to make you moan with pleasure and you’re gonna like every second of it.”

He laid a trail of kisses down Castiel’s body, pausing for a moment when he reached the angel’s abdomen.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Castiel nodded. Idly, Dean traced a finger over the other man’s dick. Castiel could feel the hot pool of arousal start to grow in his stomach, waited for Dean to mark him as his own. Dean stopped his caresses, smirking when he saw the effect he was having on the angel.

“I want to hear you beg.”

“Yes, Dean. You know I’d do anything for you…”

 

There’s a reason orgasms are sometimes called ‘the little death’ and it’s not just to do with the exquisite agony of relief. That night, as Dean thrust himself inside Castiel, again and again, a little piece of the fallen angel died. He couldn’t say if it was because Dean was finally here beside him, completing him, or if it was because he knew that all too soon, it would be over.

 

Castiel woke in the morning to a cold, empty bed and the sight of Dean slipping on his clothes.

“It looks like we don’t even have time for Round two, sweetheart. Crowley’s got a job for me. Makes a change, me ditching you, huh?”

“Dean, you don’t have to…”

“What, I don’t have to do this? Of course I don’t. I’m doing it ‘cause I want to.” He came over and kissed Castiel lightly on the lips. “See you around, angel. Don’t try to look for me again, okay? You and my brother would be a lot happier for it.”

Dean headed towards the door.

“Dean?”

He turned around, “Yeah, angel?”

“I have to ask. Did you ever love me?”

“I’m not sure you want to know the answer to that question.”

“Even so, I’d like to hear it from your lips.”

Dean seemed remarkably interested in a spot on the floor. “I loved you, Cas. With everything I had. I thought you knew that.”

Without a backward glance, he walked out the door, leaving Castiel to his thoughts.


End file.
